To Be Brave (High School Story)
by Paper Sentiments
Summary: "Her ruler points at the desk next to Uriah. 'There's a free seat over there,' she says icily. He nods and makes his way towards my corner. I catch his gaze for a moment. His eyes are a deep blue, like the ocean and his nose is hooked handsomely. " Eventually FourTris. :3 Rated T for some profanity. R&R because I love all of you Divergent Fans.
1. Chapter 1

**I decided to merge the first two chapters if that's okay. D: I think I'm going to try dedicating myself to writing 2500-3000 words for each chapter.**

**What is a good length to write at?**

* * *

I hate school.

**"Beatrice! Come on!"** Caleb bangs on the door harder. **"Don't be selfish."**

Nope. Not going out there where a bunch of jerks are going to throw me into garbage bins and push me down stairs. **"You're the one being selfish,"** I groan. **"Go to school without me. Those jerks are waiting for you."**

It's almost a year since we moved here, in Chicago. My dad lost his job again, and so our family sought for a new start here. _And what a great start that was_. Caleb and I are already targets of harassment, but while I'm dying to punch the jerks in the gut, Caleb manages to cope and keep me steady. As you can see, I don't have many friends. I've learned to play the shy kid, and I guess that keeps me out of trouble.

There's a squeaky sound and I hear the door click. Caleb walks in with a malformed paperclip in his hand. _Dammit_, I think. _He picked the lock_. I curl up into a ball, my last feeble attempt to evade him.

**"This year will be different,"** he says softly, sitting on the bed next to me. I feel his hand press against my shoulder. **"I promise."**

**"You're a liar,"** I grumble. I twist under his hand and stick my head outside of the blanket to peek at him. His face is a rare shade of red. Impatience doesn't suit him.

**"I'm not," **he says, slowly uncovering me. His hand wraps around my arm. **"Beatrice, all those bullies are gone now. They graduated." **I frown at him. **"It'll be okay."**

There's a maturity in his eyes that makes him look like an old man. I sigh.** "Let's go."**

* * *

**"Stiff!"** someone yells. Two hands shove me into the water fountain.

I hate Caleb. I hate high school. I hate people.

_**"This year will be different."**_ My voice mimics Caleb. _**"I promise."**_

Caleb always told me not to retaliate—that retaliating brought me down to their level.

_Cowardice brings me down to their level._ Standing up to them is the bravest thing I could do. But I listen to Caleb, all the while not agreeing with him. I don't know how he deals with it, but he does.

I walk next to the wall until I reach my first class, English.

The teacher is petite and small like me, with a cranky expression scrunching her face. The bell still hasn't rung yet. She pauses from the book in her hands to eye me carefully as I walk in. I try to ignore her, taking a look at the whiteboard. It says, "PICK ANY SEAT" in blue marker. On each desk, there is a small square of dark chocolate. I settle in the back corner. If there's one thing I learned from last year, it's that socializing is a pain because no one wants to be friends with me.

After the bell rings, students shuffle in with their chatter, stumbling around the desks. A girl plops down beside me.

**"Hey,"** she says brightly to me. Her hair is short and her skin is dark. She pops the square of chocolate in her mouth.

I stare at her almost, unsure if someone is actually trying to talk to me. I answer back, **"Hey."**

**"My name's Christina."** She slides her backpack off her shoulders and sits it next to mine. **"Yours?"**

I hesitate.** "Beatrice," **I say quietly. My name sounds like an antique.

She surprises me with a grin and whips out a phone from her pocket. **"What's your number?"**

**"I don't have one."**

**"_You don't have a phone?_"** she gasps, her eyes bulging. I shake my head and she gasps again.

A boy with a tight black shirt settles in the seat in front of me and automatically spins to face Christina.

**"Have you seen Marlene?"** he asks, a look of concern coating his face. Christina scrunches her mouth before shaking her head. He sighs. **"She's supposed to be in this class, but I don't see her."**

**"Sorry Uriah," **she shrugs. He sighs again disappointedly as he turns back around.

The teacher taps a ruler against the whiteboard, forcing the class to go silent.

**"Hello, class. I'm Mrs. Matthews,"** she begins, scanning the students with her cat-like eyes. "**But you may call me Jeanine. ****I'll be your English teacher this year."**

Before she can continue, a tall, sturdy boy strides through the door. An interesting scowl coats Jeanine's eyes as she and him lock stares for a moment. Her ruler jabs at the desk next to Uriah.** "There's a free seat over there," **she says icily. He nods and makes his way towards my corner. I catch his gaze for a moment. His eyes are a deep blue, like the ocean and his nose is hooked handsomely. Uriah slumps in his seat, probably because he was saving that seat for Marlene.

**"So,"** Jeanine says as the boy settles into his chair. **"Let's begin with attendance. Tell me if there's another name you prefer to be called by. Christina."**

**"Here."**

******"Peter."** Three seats in front of me, a hand raises.

**"Edward."**

**"Here."**

**"Tob—"**

**"I go by Four,"** interrupts the boy next to Uriah. Christina stifles a laugh, nudging me with her elbow.

**"Four? Like the number?" **she whispers in my ear. **"What kind of name is that?"**

Four turns around to glare at her. **"You've got a problem?"** His voice is low and menacing, too old for his age. Christina shakes her head. Real charmer, that guy.

Jeanine scribbles something on her attendance sheet. **"Marlene," **she continues. Uriah sits straight up, his head on a swivel. No one answers. Jeanine shakes her head as she marks Marlene absent.

**"Will."**

**"Here."**

**"Eric."** Another hand raises four seats to the right of me.

**"Beatrice."**

I freeze, suddenly hating the name more than ever. Beatrice sounds like the weak girl that my family always believed in. **"I go by something else,"** I say quickly. My mouth searches desperately for a new name. I still have a chance to be someone else. Someone different than Beatrice Prior. **"I…um. I go by…Tris."**

**"Tris,"** she repeats, writing on the sheet. **"Alright." **That sounds tougher. Sounds braver.

When she finishes calling attendance, she proceeds onto the wonders of British grammar with so much alacrity, her voice almost rises to a shout. I tune it all out until the bell rings.

Jeanine smiles, **"Have a good day, class. I'll see you tomorrow."**

As I walk out the door, I hear Peter next to me. **"Heard about your dad,"** he sneers into my ear. **"About how he arrested three homeless people for loitering. Can your family get any stupider?" **He shoves me, forcing me to stagger against a trashcan. Then he strolls away with the rest of the crowd, leaving me to the aid of Christina.

**"What's his deal?"** she asks, steadying me. I shrug. I finally got a her as a friend. I don't want her to know about my murderer of a dad too soon. **"Well next time he touches you, I'm gonna kick his ass." **She says it with a determined smile and I can't help but smile back..

To my fortunate surprise, Christina shares almost all of my classes with me. To my unfortunate surprise, so does Peter. And to my weirded-out surprise, so does Four, Eric, and a boy named Al.

When lunch begins, Christina sits beside me. **"Oh God, I'm starving,"** she groans, grasping something that resembles a hamburger. Only it's stripped down to a simple bun and patty. I watch her in amazement, waiting to see how fast she can inhale it until I hear a tray clatter across the table. It's Al.

He gives me a nervous look. **"Can I sit here?"** he asks shyly. I nod. Christina gives him a thumbs up in approval, her mouth too full for words. Al is big in size. A lot bigger than me. But there's a gentler air that surrounds him. His skin is pale, like he doesn't go outside a lot.

This is already more friends than I had last year.

A group of people walk past, one of them leaning in towards me. **"Whore,"** he whispers before pulling away. I ignore it. Christina doesn't take it though.

She stands straight up.** "Hey you, shit-face!"** she calls out. Oh my God. What is she doing? The guy whips around with the rest of his crew. One of the members is Peter. I catch Four peeking his head over their shoulders, watching Christina curiously. Really? He's one of them? I guess I can't be surprised, considering how he acted earlier.

Christina reaches for the guy's collar and sends her knuckles into the his nose. He cries out, grabbing his face. Blood immediately drips from his nostrils. He tries to retaliate, sending a punch flying, but Christina dodges it easily and kicks him in the stomach with her slightly elevated boot. He doubles over and backs away into the crowd next to Peter.

**"Sorry,"** Christina grins. **"I thought I heard you talk. Really annoyed me. Did you talk?" **He shakes his head and grudges away, the crowd of people turning away with him.

Christina settles down beside me, casually returning to her food. I simply gape at her. **"You didn't have to do that."**

**"Of course I did,"** she scoffs, picking up a cookie.

We just met, but I feel like we've known each other for years.** "Well remind me not to get on your bad side,"** I say. We laugh together. Even Al.

Maybe this year will be different.

* * *

**"How was today?"** Caleb asks as we walk out of the school. Even though Caleb is only two months older than me, he's an 11th grader—I'm a 10th grader. **"Different?"**

**"It sucked," **I grumble, folding my arms. I don't want to admit he was right.

**"It looks like you made some friends."**

Shoot. **"Oh, you saw that?"**

**"How could I not? It's only the first day of school and a fight already breaks out," **he sighs, shaking his head. **"And you're ****_friends_**** with her."**

**"_Her_ name is Christina. And she was protecting me," **I say defensively, even though I can't really explain why. I'm still trying to get past that she even wanted to talk to me. _Probably because she doesn't know about our dad_, I think.

We walk in silence for the rest of the way home.

Mom's cooking lingers in the air. **"We're home,"** I call out as we step into the house. I follow the scent into the kitchen and find my mom leaning over a soup pan on the stove.

**"Beatrice,"** she smiles without looking at me. **"I made chicken noodle. Get your brother and sit down at the table."**

**"Is dad home?" **I ask.

**"No. He won't be home until late tonight."**

**"Again?" **I feel slightly betrayed. He's been taking more and more night shifts at the police station lately. Enough that I haven't seen him for four days straight.

**"He'll be here tomorrow. Oh, by the way, could you go get the mail? The keys are on the counter."**

Good. I need some air. I grab the keys and leave through the backdoor.

My dad is a police officer, but he kind of sucks at it. This year, he's made a couple of false arrests. But more than that, last year he accidentally shot an innocent bystander. The only thing that saved him was his position of authority. That's why people don't like him. His mistakes were broadcasted all over the news throughout the country, and more than enough people think he'd be better off dead than alive. Our family had to endure so many threats and harassment that we decided to leave Los Angeles, and somehow he managed to get another job here in Chicago.

My dad might suck at being a police officer, but he's a good person with good intentions so it didn't take me too long to forgive him. Caleb is a different story. He doesn't talk about in front of our parents, but he's still mad at my dad for remaining a police officer after killing someone and forcing our family to flee the city. The problem hasn't completely left us, because there are still people bullying Caleb and I, but at least it's not as intense as it was in Los Angeles. There was actual danger of being killed there.

* * *

The mailbox is across the street. It's one of the big ones that hold all the mail of the whole neighborhood. My street is really close to the more sketchy areas of the city, and a lot of sidewalk is vandalized with words like "Dauntless" or "Fearless". It's probably gang stuff.

As I unlock my family's slot, a whistle breaks the sound of distant cars. I look to my left. No one's here. I look to my right and see Peter turn around the corner with two of his friends. His eyes lock on me and he pauses in his step for a moment. **"Hey, Drew,"** he says loudly, nudging his friend. **"Is that stiff?"**

Oh no. I grab the mail quickly and turn around to cross the street but Peter is fast and gets in the way. He shoves me against the mailbox.

**"Is this your neighborhood, stiff?"** he whispers menacingly. I try to tear around him before his friends can surround me, but he catches my arm and slams me back against the box. Drew laughs as I struggle against Peter's grasp. **"She's so small," **he snorts, his eyes skirting over my body.** "Kind of cute."**

Peter makes a gagging noise and frowns at him with disgust. **"She's not cute,"** he grumbles, his gaze returning to me. **"I could use some pictures though. Some payback for Christina's little hit today."**

Oh no. This isn't happening. _This isn't happening._

**"Don't touch me,"** I hiss, trying to wrench myself free. The bundle of mail slips from my hand. After pulling out a phone, Drew slithers a finger under my shirt while Peter and his friend pin me against the mailbox. I kick wildly. I can't let this happen to me. I can't let them think I'm scared. My foot manages to make contact with Drew's privates and he flinches, inhaling sharply.

**"You bitch,"** he growls, seizing a handful of my hair. He jerks my head upward. A faint cry slips from my lips.

**"Alex, hold her down,"** Peter says to the other guy. Drew slides up my shirt further, laughing,** "She's probably super flat-chested."**

The breeze feels cold on my stomach. My head is screaming.** "Stop…!"** I whimper quietly, shutting my eyes.

Why does this have to happen to me?

Suddenly Drew's hand withdraws from my shirt. His laughter is replaced by a grunt, and then followed by smacking noises. There is a thud. Peter begins to shout, but he's cut short by another sound of a thud.

I open eyes, finding Peter and Drew doubled-over and motionless on the sidewalk. Alex backs away from a boy in a black sweater who stands defensively in front of me. The boy is tall, his hair dark, but glittering brown in the sunlight. He wears a sense of pride in his stature and humbleness in the curve of his neck. His fists clench tightly at his sides, daring Alex to try and fight back.

Alex has two decisions now: he can either retreat…or become like his friends—knocked out cold on the ground. It doesn't take him long to decide. He runs away and disappears behind the corner.

Triumphantly, the boy in the black sweater spins around to face me. I breathe heavily, letting my stare drop to his converse shoes.

**"You know…" **His voice is familiar, but seems out of place. Like it should be cold and harsh, not warm like it is now. I feel his gaze on the top of my head.** "You can't always have people picking fights for you," **he says. He knows about Christina too?

I shake, unsure of how I should respond. A small **"thank you" **shudders from my mouth. He picks up the bundle of mail and slides it into my hands.

**"Be careful next time,"** he says, briefly putting a hand on my shoulder. I take the bundle and nod, avoiding his gaze. Once he strolls around the corner, I look around. This guy just saved me.

Immediately I regret not looking at him. _Who was he?_

* * *

When I go to school the next day, I keep my eye out. It seems ridiculous because really, it could be anyone out of the hundreds of kids that go to my school, but I still search anyways. It's when I reach my first period class that I notice a pair of converse shoes shuffling beside me. When I look up, I meet Eric's stare.

Eric is tall. Eric is muscly. Eric looks threatening.

He doesn't say anything. He looks away just as quickly as I do. Is he the boy in the black sweater?

I settle down in my seat in the corner. If I ask him and he's not it, then I guess I'll have made things awkward—but if he _is_ it, then I've found my person to thank properly. I look at the clock. There's five minutes to ask him. Maybe there's something brave in thanking people too.

I stand up and weave around the desks until I reach his. His eyes shoot up to mine icily. Suddenly, everything seems doubtful.

**"Hey…"**I start, struggling to form the words. **"Have I...met you before?"**

His gaze hardens.** "No,"** he growls flatly, his voice harsh. **"What do you want, stiff?"**

I cringe. Even if he wasn't the person, I wasn't expecting that. **"Never mind,"** I mutter, returning to my seat. Must be a friend of Peter's.

Speaking of Peter, Peter saunters into the room, limping slightly. What did that guy do to him?

Four follows a couple feet behind him, striding through the door like yesterday. The instant the door closes behind him, he blue eyes quickly skirt mine. I frown. Even if Four is tall, there's no way Four is the guy. He's one of Peter's little crowd of people.

**"Tris?"** Christina plops down next to me. **"Whatcha staring at?"**

If I tell her about yesterday, she'll flip out. I shake my head.** "Nothing."**


	2. Chapter 2

**Just in case-I merged the first two chapters into chapter one so if you read this fic when it absolutely first came out with 1,523 words then I would recommend reading it again nerp thank you sorry i love you all**

**and omfg thank you for the follows and favorites and reviews and just ahhh -dies-**

**you know, I'm actually like an amity person so writing dauntless fanfiction kind of worries me because i don't know if i'm portraying them right. ._.**

* * *

** "The first partner project of the year!"** Jeanine squeals. Students groan quietly under their breath, but she only waves them away. **"Now I realize it's a new year and you're going to pick your friends, but I want you to start this year meeting new people," **She smiles, drawing some handouts from her desk. **"But first, we're going to divide this class up into factions. I will base your project partners off of your faction. The factions are…" **She grabs a marker and begins writing them on the board.** "Dauntless. Erudite. Abnegation. Amity. And Candor. These factions measure your values in society. Please take this as seriously as possible and avoid discussing what faction you intend to join. We want this to be as authentic as possible."**

Dauntless? Where have I seen that word before? I read the words on the handout.

_To be **Dauntless** is to have **fearlessness** in your heart for the unknown. You are individualistic. There is a **strength** and **boldness** that drives you to commit ordinary acts of bravery and to **speak out** for others who can only whisper. Cowardice invites transgression—courage advocates justice._

_To be **Erudite** is to cherish the gift of **intelligence**—that **understanding of the life** around you is the solution to the arising conflicts of everyday life. You study and you **pursuit knowledge** then, but do not utilize it to the benefit of yourself, but to the **benefit of society**._

_To be **Candor** is to uphold **authenticity** and **pure honesty**—to render yourself transparent. You are not fragile or frightened under the weight of **truth**, for it erases suspicions in the face of uncertainty. Lies are only temporary; honesty brings permanence. _

_To be **Amity** is to contrive **harmony** in all settings. It is to **think independently**, but to **act together** in the midst of conflict. For the benefit of peace, you believe in **trust**, in **kindness**, in **forgiveness**, and in **self-sufficiency**. Hostility cannot combat hostility—only friendship can prevail._

_To be **Abnegation** is to practice **selflessness**—to **project outward **always and to put others before yourself. There is magic in **serving** others, in uplifting people in the face of hardship. Self-indulgence is the undoing—Selflessness is the catalyst of peace in society._

I snort as I read the last part. It sounds like something Caleb would agree to. I wonder much time Jeanine spent into constructing this system. Everyone is silent as they read and I put my head down on the desk, biting the inside of my cheek.

I'm not friendly or honest. I am curious like Erudite, but I was raised with the principles of selflessness like Abnegation. Erudite is easy to rule out, but I'm not going to deny it—in most circumstances I love the idea of being selfless. The thought of helping others in need like my mother, who helps at volunteer centers to feed the homeless, that seems like an ideal life. At the same time though, I have to repress all traces of individuality at home and that is everything I've ever hated about selflessness.

Either way, I'm not worth it. I'm too selfish for it. This might be a game to Jeanine, but to me this seems like a decision that I've been needing to make for a long time now. Who will I identify as?

Chatter fills the room. Strangely enough, no one seems to be having a difficult time deciding what section they want to be. Christina laughs next to me. **"Definitely not Amity," **she grins, cracking her knuckles. **"Could be Candor, could be Dauntless."**

Al shuffles towards me, wearing a curious brow.** "What're you going to be?" **he asks.

I shake my head.** "Not telling." **Half because we're not supposed to, but also because I'm actually not that sure which faction I belong in.

**"Well, hopefully we end up in the same faction."**

**"Yeah," **I smile.

The only person who doesn't seem to be enthusiastic about the factions is Four. He slumps in his seat, staring emotionless at the sheet of paper. I've never actually seen him socialize with anyone. And right now, he looks as cold as ice.

**"Is everyone decided?"** Jeanine says brightly. The class chants "yes" and she smiles. **"Fantastic. Everyone put their heads down now, and no peeking."**

**"Wait," **Uriah says loudly. Everyone turns to stare at him.** "What if we can't choose?"**

Jeanine marches up to his desk slowly. **"Then…" **she says,her eyes suddenly icy.** "You pretend, and make sure I don't find out." **

I think I understand now. This is a simpler way of controlling her students, by grouping them together into clear-cut personalities. People who can't fit into one faction are unpredictable and that's precisely what Jeanine hates—lack of control. Well, she looked nice before but not anymore.

She turns off the lights as our foreheads thump against our desks. **"If you're Candor, raise your hand."** She waits a couple of seconds to jot down names.

**"Hands down. If you're Erudite, raise your hand."**

**"Hands down. If you're Amity, raise your hand." **There is subtle shifting.

**"Alright. If you're Dauntless, raise your hand." **My hand lifts slowly from the surface of the desk.

This isn't enough. I need to leave behind the weak little girl from Los Angeles. I stretch my hand higher and higher and reach up as far as I can. I can be brave. I can be Dauntless.

She takes only a few moments.** "Hands down. If you are Abnegation, raise your hand." **She doesn't wait long after that. Probably because not many people are selfless.

**"Heads up! Take a look on the board and see who your fellow faction members are! Then gather together so I can take attendance."**

Everyone stampedes to the front of the room. Some friends high-five and some hug. When I see the list of Dauntless I realize Christina isn't on there with me. She's with Candor.

I feel betrayed again. Yesterday she stood up for me so how could she not be Dauntless? As I scan the list I find that there are only five people with me:

Uriah, Edward, Lauren, Al, and Four.

At least Al is here with me. He elbows me softly, grinning. **"Heya."**

**"Heya,"** I mimic, elbowing him back. Uriah is already off, chatting away with Amity people. It feels weird calling them that. Like these are our new families. I realize Four is standing behind me, but he's staring distantly at the board. There's an ugly bruise right below his chin, so well hidden that only people as short as me could see it. What could that be?

I shake the thought off. Why do I care?

Jeanine pulls out a hat from under her desk. **"Time to choose partners! Your partner will be from either your faction or a faction that works well with yours."**

She draws two cards**. "Will and Christina!"** A boy with blonde, shaggy hair steps out from Erudite to greet Christina. Her face flushes and she giggles a little. Oh my God.

**"Peter and Molly."** They're both Candor. They step next to each other. There is no way Peter is Candor. How the hell is he Candor? _He's so evil._ I shudder, remembering the events of yesterday, how Drew nearly stripped off my shirt. Suddenly my body feels insecure and fear shoots up my spine. Who's saying they won't try it again with a vengeance?

Jeanine pulls two more cards**. "Tris and Four." **Oh no. Ugh. Why couldn't it be Al and not one of Peter's jerk of friends? I spin around, meeting Four's expressionless gaze. He takes a step closer to me so to imply we're partners. I struggle to repress a discontented sigh. Al looks at me disappointingly. _I know_, I try to communicate with my stare. _I wish we were partners too._

Once Jeanine finishes calling partners, she begins explaining the project. Apparently, we and our partners have to go somewhere nostalgic and write a short, fictional narrative about it. Pictures must be taken as evidence. What the hell? Doesn't that seem a little too personal for a person we just met?

I follow Four to his desk. He settles down into the seat with a heavy breath. Good. At least now I know neither of us want to be here.

Before I can say anything, he looks up at me, his blue eyes piercing into mine. I have to admit, he's really, _really_ handsome.

**"Where's somewhere nostalgic for you?" **he asks quietly. Somehow I wasn't expecting him to sound like that. Like some hurt little kid. He's probably nothing like that**, **what with the way he snapped at Christina yesterday.

I try to think back, but the only thing I can think of is Los Angeles, before my dad accidentally killed someone. Definitely can't go there.

**"I've got nothing,"** I say flatly. **"What about you?"**

He shakes his head. **"Me neither. Let's just go to the park. Are you free tonight?" **

I hesitate, unsure if I want to go alone at night with one of Peter's friends. He notices, and sighs.** "Don't answer that. I'll pick you up at six, okay?"**

**"But—"**

He interrupts,** "Look, I'm not going to attack you or touch you or anything, alright?" **

I stare at him blankly._What?_ Does he know about what happened yesterday? He's lying. He has to be lying. He's going to beat me up for Peter.

But wait, he hasn't called me "stiff" yet…he hasn't made fun of me yet. It suddenly dawns on me that he might've just been watching when Christina punched that guy yesterday. But how would he know about the thing with Peter and Drew then?

I look down at his shoes.

Converse.

Suddenly my heart is beating rapidly-so rapidly it aches. I stutter uncontrollably, **"You know about yesterday?" **He nods. I feel hot embarrassment rush into my cheeks.** "A-A-Are you—were you that guy—"**

**"That saved your ass?"** He laughs coldly. **"Maybe." **He turns away from me to look out the window.** "Stay in front of the school at six until I pick you up, alright?"**

I shakily nod and start walking away.

**"Wait, Tris." **My face turns white at the sound of my name. That's the first time anyone has used that nickname. I spin around.** "Don't come earlier than exactly six. I don't need you getting caught by Peter again," **he sighs.

Is he…worried about me? Ugh. I don't need it. Yesterday I was scared, but today and days after I will be prepared to give Peter _hell._ Maybe Four saved me, but I can protect myself. That reminds me.

**"Four?"** I say quietly. His eyes shoot up to mine. My chest nearly cripples under his stare, but I try to shake it off. Is gratitude a sign of weakness? **"Thank you for yesterday."**

He snorts and waves me off. **"I beat up someone. Yay for me." **His stony gaze just barely cracks a smile, but only briefly. Then it returns to its iciness.

Okay. Maybe he isn't so bad.

* * *

**"I don't like him,"** Christina frowns. **"He's hot, but-"**

**"But what?"** I look up from my lunch to narrow my eyes at her.

**"Four is...like you just have to get to know him, I guess,"** she says. **"He's _mean _sometimes_. Meaner than me."_**

I snort. **"You're not mean. You're...honest."** I think Four is just misunderstood, like how I misunderstood him.

Al breaks in, **"If he hurts you, you know who to call anyways."** I laugh, thinking he was referring to himself, but his eyes gesture at Christina. Al is big, but he isn't dangerous. There's no way he would pick a fight with anyone on a whim. But what do I know? He joined Dauntless.

**"Hey!"** Will approaches us. **"Mind if I sit here? Being partners and all."**

Christina gapes at him, her cheeks becoming rosy.** "Nope, not at all,"** I grin before Christina can say anything. She glares at me as Will settles on the bench beside her. **"I'm doing you a favor,"** I whisper in her ear. She punches me in the shoulder and I laugh. Will peers at us curiously, but I just shake my head. **"Nothing."**

I notice Peter limping into the cafeteria with a tray of food, Eric striding beside him. I suppress a smirk. Honestly I wish he broke his leg.

His eyes meet mine and his mouth bends into an ugly scowl. **"Hey Stiff!" **Peter yells. He starts limping towards me. Oh great. I bite my lip, mentally preparing myself to sock him in the face.

But before he can reach me, Four's sturdy figure walks past in the opposite direction. He bumps his shoulder against Peter, making Peter stagger with pain.

**"Sorry,"** Four says loudly. They lock stares, and Peter almost looks like he shrinking under Four's menace. Whatever Peter was intending to say to me, he lost interest, because he simply walks past me after that.

* * *

**"Mom, I'm leaving!" **

She hugs me and hands me a granola bar. She says I should always carry food on my in case I run into a homeless person. As always, she's so selfless and so caring—something I could never strive to be, no matter how hard I tried. She gives me a final squeeze.** "Be careful." **I kiss her on the cheek, then close the door behind me and bounce down the steps.

It feels like butterflies in my stomach. I can't believe Jeanine would make this a first project. Neither Four or I seem to want to disclose anything about our past. I reach the stairs of the school and lean on its railing. It's exactly 5:58, so I don't think I allowed too much opportunity to get ambushed.

I see Four's figure approach me from the opposite side of the street, causing tingles of nervousness to run through my body. Why am I nervous?

**"Hello, Tris,"** His voice is low as he sticks his hands in his sweater-his black sweater. His bangs curls upward slightly at his forehead.

**"Hi,"** I retort, trying to sound confident. I am waiting to see if Christina was right-that Four really is as mean as she says.

He turns away.** "Let's go."**

We're silent all the way to the park. As confident as he looks with his eyes constantly staring forward, his face is reserved, not flamboyantly obnoxious like Peter's. Actually, his face is more than reserved—it's austere with hints of anger. I wonder what goes on in his head. I notice the bruise flashing just slightly again under his chin.

As we approach the playground, rubber pebbles roll under our feet. He pulls out a digital camera. **"Let's hurry before it gets dark. Stand over there, next to the swings," **he instructs, gesturing swiftly at a pair of wooden planks swaying under a tree. I do what he says.

**"You gonna smile?" **he sighs.

Ugh. I try my best. I've never been good at smiling on a whim. He snorts.

**"What?"** I frown.

He struggles to keep a straight face, but there is a wicked curl on one side of his lips. **"No, keep smiling," **he says sternly. I groan and try again. He snaps a picture.

**"Alright, now you,"** I say, snatching the camera from him. He plops down on the swing next to me. **"Are you going to smile or what?"** I sneer.

Four raises an eyebrow at my sudden friendliness, cracking a crooked grin. I stare at his face in the camera, observing the way his nose hooks and the way his eyes are a dark blue. I wish I could be beautiful like that. His smile fades away quickly with the snap of the camera. For some reason, I wish he smiled longer.

We sit there in the shade of the tree, looking at the photos. Now that I know that he saved me yesterday, I want to know him better. I want to know why he saved me—why he didn't just ignore me and leave me at the mercy of Peter and his friends. Everyone else would've. So why didn't he?

**"What were you doing yesterday?"** I say finally, breaking the silence. He doesn't react at all. **"Like, when you found me?"**

He's quiet for a moment, fiddling with the camera. **"It's none of your business."**

**"It kind of is," **I grumble.

**"It's kind of _not_,"** he says louder. His voice is harsh. **"Don't push me, stiff."**

I cringe at his sudden coldness. **"Don't call me that," **I breathe, trying to suppress traces of frustration. He doesn't respond. His fists clench around the ropes of the swing and his eyes become distant.

People started calling me "stiff" when I was in L.A. because of how "stiffly" and diligently I worked in class. The name spread like wild-fire, and people used it when they talked about me on the news as they were condemning my dad. It's not too big of a surprise that people here use it too, I guess.

He sighs, patting off non-existent dust from his pants. **"Are we done here?" **he says icily. I nod. Christina was right. Even if we weren't, I don't want to spend any more time here with him.


	3. Chapter 3

**THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE REVIEWS AND FOR THE FOLLOWS AND SUGGESTIONS AND OMFG**

**I LOVE YOU**

**I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH YOU ARE ALL A BIG HELP. ;_; 3**

* * *

When I get home, Caleb swings open the front door before I can knock.

"**How was it?"** he asks. **"You and that guy." **Caleb looks strangled with curiosity. I ignore it, trying to duck under his arm but he steps to the side and blocks me.

I groan. "**Why do you want to know?"**

"**Just…curious. I'm your brother after all." **Ew. Is he trying to be protective?

I sigh, folding my arms.** "It was sucky."** I feel like we've already had this conversation. Four didn't even say bye when he left the park. He simply stuffed his camera into his sweater and stalked off without a word.

"**Oh. Sorry,"** Caleb says, turning to let me through. I start shrugging my jacket off when a low voice calls from the kitchen.

"**Beatrice, honey?"** The voice makes me smile and my chest lightens with joy. I stride into the big arms of my dad, smelling the scent of dirt, donuts, and detergent. He lifts me up into the air, chuckling warmly into my ear. **"Wow, babe, I've missed you."**

"**I missed you too, dad."**

"**Let's sit down and eat. Your mother made something wonderful." **I peer over his shoulder and see plates of chicken pot pie. My dad's eyes are big with hope and his shoulders are wide with strength. He's selfless like my mom, but can often times misunderstand situations.

After praying, my mother leans towards my father. "**So, Andrew, how was work today**?"

"**Ugly**," he says shortly, swallowing down a bite. **"Another gang fight at Oak Park, but I think we've finally stopped it once and for all there."**

My mother shakes her head.** "Oh that's terrible!"**

"**Was anyone killed?" **I ask. Caleb shoots me a dirty look for speaking out of turn.

"**Just one. He was real young too, it was a shame," **dad sighs.

I don't stop to think.** "How young?" **I feel Caleb's foot nudge my leg, warning me.

"**Oh, God, the kid had to be around thirteen years old. It's really a shame that kids get into gangs and narcotics at such a young age, let alone at all."**

I think aloud.** "I wonder what their parents are like."**

"**Why don't you let your father speak, Beatrice?"** My mother says softly. I nod, determined to stay silent. Somehow, curiosity is a form of selfishness that neither I nor Caleb have been able to suppress—Caleb's just better at hiding it.

The doorbell rings. **"I'll get it,"** Caleb says, walking out of the kitchen.

"**Who could that be?"** My mother asks my dad. He shrugs.

"**Mom, dad! It's a neighbor," **calls Caleb. My parents stride together to see who it is and I follow behind them. The man standing in our door way is big and looks to be about in his forties like my parents. He dresses modestly in a long-sleeved, gray collared shirt and fancy slacks, wearing a tender smile. For some odd reason, he looks really familiar.

"**Why hello, I don't believe we've met."** My mother says, stretching a hand towards him. **"I'm Natalie Prior and this is my husband, Andrew. These are my two kids, Beatrice and Caleb."** The man cringes at her touch, causing her to retract her hand as if she just killed something.

"**I'm sorry,"** he breathes, rubbing his arm. His voice is unexpectedly loud, as if he's talking to a big audience. **"I'm no good with physical contact. But I heard you moved here a while ago and I never got a chance to meet you. I tend to try and give a warm welcome to everyone who moves into my neighborhood."**

My mother laughs cordially.** "Well now you have. Would you like to stay for dinner?"**

"**It would be my honor,"** he smiles. Caleb leads him to the table while I pull up an extra chair. He sets down onto the seat with a thud.

"**I'm sorry,"** my father says as he places a plate of pot pie in front of the stranger. **"I don't believe we know your name."**

"**Oh,"** the man says, shaking his head. **"Of course, my apologies. My name is Marcus Eaton, it's nice to meet you."**

My father is quiet for a moment, then snaps his fingers**. "Oh that's right! You're the principal at my children's high school." **Marcus nods, smiling tenderly.

The principal? Caleb nudges me under the table and I nudge him back. We both race to finish our food, neither of us wanting to participate in adult conversation. Caleb waits until my dad and Marcus finish their conversation about the hardships of being a teacher.

"**Excuse us,"** Caleb says.

"**Excused,"** my mother nods, returning her gaze to Marcus. I don't know how she manages to be so kind to everyone but sometimes it kind of grosses me out.

Caleb and I sit on the stairs in the darkness, him leaning against the wall while I lean against the railing. Caleb and I think a lot alike, despite being so different socially.

"**Hey Caleb, did you have Mrs. Matthews for an English teacher when you were a sophomore?" **I ask.

He nods. **"Yeah, she was a great teacher."**

"**What faction did you choose?"**

He tilts his head, trying to remember. **"I picked Erudite, I'm pretty sure. You know me."** I do. I know he sneaks to the library at night sometimes and stays there until five in the morning to read. **"What about you? What did you choose?"**

"**I picked Dauntless." **

He snorts.** "What?" **I ask almost defensively.

"**No it suits you. In L.A. you seemed so fragile but ever since you came to Chicago you've been…different. More aggressive."**

"**I'll take that as a compliment," **I smile.

"**Is that why you were with that guy today? Because you were both in the same faction?"**

"**Yeah."**

Caleb starts playing with his watch.** "Do you like him?"**

I gag, choking on my own spit. That was an unexpected question.** "Hell no," **I frown. Four is icy and cold, even if he did save me yesterday.

Caleb shrugs, as if relieved. **"Okay."**

* * *

I get to class early the next day. Jeanine gives me the same stare from two days ago, where she lifts her eyes from her book and watches me as I settle down. There are books everywhere in the room. There is a wall of books that covers the entire back wall of the classroom, and there are stacks behind the white board and under Jeanine's desk. I'm pretty sure I know what faction she's from.

When class starts, the only chair empty is Four's. Ugh. Today we were supposed to start typing our narratives with our partners. That means I'm going to have to start on my own. But I guess that's okay.

I peer over at Will's desk. Christina sits on top of it with her legs crossed, swinging flirtingly at the sides. Her head is tilted cutely as she listens to Will talk. When she sees me, she bounces over and settles into her desk next to mine.

"**That was absolutely disgusting,"** I say, nudging her shoulder.

She snorts.** "I don't know what you're talking about."**

"**I'm talking about your little scheme to seduce Will," **I laugh.

She sits up straight with her chin up.** "It's not **_**a scheme**_**. I think he's into me!" **

"**Whatever," **I smile, waving my hand dismissively at her. She punches my shoulder again.

"**Settle down, class,"** Jeanine says loudly, waving around her ruler. **"Today we're go—"**

The door swings open and Four strides in with another girl following behind him. The girl is only a little bit taller than me, with long brown hair trailing behind her in a ponytail. She's beautiful.

After glowering at Four as he sits down, Jeanine skirts her eyes over the girl. **"And you are…?"**

"**Marlene,"** the girl says. **"I've been sick."**

"**Sure. Well there is a free seat next to the boy over there," **Jeanine grumbles, gesturing at Eric. **"Please sit down there." **

Uriah gapes at her, his cheeks becoming completely rosy under his tan skin. While Marlene settles down. I watch the curve in Four's back twist as he stares at the trees outside the window. His eyes are absent as usual, his thoughts far away from the class.

"**Tris? Tris!"** Christina whispers to me, pinching my arm. I jump at the sting and glare at her. She points at something in front of me and my eyes follow her arm until they reach Jeanine. Jeanine stares at me angrily.

"**Do you have an answer?" **she snaps.

I open my mouth, but close it regretfully. I sigh and shake my head. **"Sorry, I didn't hear the question."**

"**Do I need to seat you in the front of the class? Will that help you focus better?" **she hisses.** "Or can I trust that we won't be having any more problems such as these?"**

"**We won't," **I glare back. She doesn't scare me, and I want her to know that. She taps my shoulder with her ruler and moves on to Peter. I lean towards Christina, whispering, **"What was the question?"**

"**Something about British grammar,"** she shrugged. Right. Boring stuff.

Four stands up and walks around his desk to get to mine after Jeanine finishes her lecture. His expression is hard. **"What do you want to write about?"**

I'm still really iffy on the narrative Jeanine is making us write. English is one of my better subjects, but still. If I have to write it with a partner I don't like…**"Um. Let's write about a boy who has fun at the park, and then he meets some kid and they become best friends," **I blurt, letting the thoughts spill from my mouth. It's not creative, but it's something.

He nods. **"I'll work on it now and give you my draft after school."**

"**Sure."** This way, we won't have to work together physically. I'm not one to hold grudges, but he makes me uncomfortable just being near me.

If he were warmer like before when he saved me, I think I would actually like him a lot. Maybe _a lot_ a lot…but he's not like that. When I look at him, I see piercing ice cold eyes and tight lips. And now there's a second bruise hidden on the back of his neck and a third on his arm. Really…what could that be?

As I walk out of the classroom, Peter shoves me into the trash can again, which is followed by another violent shove by Eric. I stay there on the floor for a few moments, waiting for their laughter to die out. For some reason I was expecting someone to help me, like Christina…or Four. But both of them are still in the classroom, and no one comes to my aid. Maybe I should learn to live through school that way. I got too used to people protecting me.

When I get up, I accidently stumble, my face falling into black fabric I already know too well. I scramble backwards, expecting to get shoved again, but Four simply puts his hands on my shoulders to steady me.

"**Sorry,"** I almost whisper.

"**Watch where you're going, Tris."** My eyes meet his for a second before skirting away. I feel like if I stared at his face for too long, my cheeks would get flushed. Any girl that looked at him for too long would do the same, so why am I so embarrassed?

He lets go of me slowly and walks off without a word again.

* * *

"**Are you sure you don't need anything, honey?"** My dad asks through my bedroom door.

"**No,"** I respond, staring at my computer screen. **"I'll be fine. Go to sleep." **

Four actually got an impressive amount of the narrative draft done today, and as I read his work, I realize he's not too bad of a writer either. So not only is he street smart, he's academically talented as well and that is just unfair. Even so, I'm staying up late to add the final touches. My fingers tap the keyboard impatiently, trying to contrive an ending to the story.

"…**skated over the crumbly sidewalk, hoping to prove himself as brave as he promised…"** I mutter, reading over Four's writing. **"When…when…"** I wrack my brain, trying to think of what to add next. Thoughts of Four get in the way though. I remember his low voice when he saved me, telling me to be careful, and his hands steadying me today. I want to laugh, to smile, to see him like that again, but I feel embarrassed about it too and I can't explain why.

"**When…"** I repeat again, tapping my head edgily with a pencil.

That's when I hear the doorbell ring.

Why would someone be ringing on people's doorbell at one in the morning? It's likely my family is completely asleep by now, so it's up to me to open the door. I grab a bat from the corner of my room, just to be safe before going. The house is completely silent, and completely dark. The stairs creak under my feet.

I raise the bat over my shoulder as I reach for the knob. As I open the front door, an **_"Oh my God_**" slips from my mouth before I can even try to process who's in front of me.

A boy stands on my doorstep, his neck to his face badly beaten. I don't say anything, I just gape at him the same way he gapes at me and my bat.

"**Tris,"** he croaks. I cringe at the sound.** "Tris, please let me in."**

My mouth struggles to form words and eventually I give up and shift to the side to let him through. If it weren't for his black sweater, I wouldn't have recognized him at all. He heaves when I close the door and collapses to the ground. **"Thank you,"** he sighs, staring at my shoes. He lays flatly on the tiles and buries his face in his arms.

"**For what?" **I sit my back against the door, watching him anxiously in the darkness. Everything I've ever thought about him is suddenly erased in these moments.

"**How—what happened? Should I call the police?" **Or my dad?I have so many questions, I don't know which one to ask. Why is Four in my house at one in the morning?

"**No, don't. Please don't,"** Four says pleadingly, unlike anything I've heard before. Right now, he isn't the ice cold boy from school. His eyes are alive with fear and confusion and God, I don't know how to deal with it. His chest swells up and down quickly, as if he sprinted here.

"**Where did you come from?" **He's silent, his eyes tightly shut like he's trying to fight away bad thoughts. **"It's okay,"** I say softly, trying to treat him like my mother would**. "You don't have to answer right away."**

He purses his lips.** "My house. I live a couple houses away from here," **he breathes tiredly.

I guess that's good enough for now.** "Here," **I say, reaching my hand towards him.** "Let me show you to the couch."**

He takes it hesitantly, and I pull as hard as I can to help him up. Even with my best intentions, he's still big enough to crush me.

He sits carefully onto the couch while I bring him a glass of water. I'm so bizarred by the fact that this is even happening, I can't help but get lost in thought as I pour the water. When I finish, I sit on the couch beside him.

"**Four…"** I let the cup slide into his hands. **"Are you okay?" **He doesn't say anything.I don't know why I asked. Anyone who took a good look at his bruised-up face could tell that he was far from "okay". We sit in the darkness for long, silent moments before he finally says something.

"**I didn't realize you lived here."**

"**I didn't know you lived so close either."**

Just like that, we're back in silence for a few minutes. I sip my own cup of water, and we watch the wall together. Every now and then in those quiet moments, Four cringes slightly, remembering whatever he just ran away from. I pretend not to notice. Sometimes it's better that way.

I try again. **"What happened?" **Honestly, I can't imagine what happened to him. He seemed so capable of defending himself against attackers the other day, so what happened tonight?

He shakes his head, staring distantly at the wall.** "I don't want to talk about it."**

"**Okay. That's fine. But I think I'm going to need answers if you're staying the night."** I feel bad for pressing him, but can anyone really blame me? A bruised up Four arrives at my house in the middle of the night as if he just got mugged and barely escaped. Maybe that's not that far from the truth.

He slides his hand through his dark hair and sighs, resting his body against the arm chair. His eyes freeze over, becoming very serious. **"If I tell you, promise you won't tell anyone. Not your family. Not anyone."**

I frown.** "I promise."**

His eyes turn suspicious.** "I don't believe you."**

"**Well, what am I supposed to do?"**

"**Make me believe you,"** he says shortly.

"**Look,"** I say scooting closer to him**. "I'm just really confused right now. I just want things to be cleared."** And with that, I do something I've never dared to do with any guy before—I hug him. That's supposed to be comforting right?

Four stares at me with shock and slowly pries me off his body. Okay, so maybe hugging him wasn't the best move. But it seems like it works because after that he sighs, raising his eyebrows at me. **"You promised."**

"**I promised,"** I confirm.


	4. Chapter 4

"**So let me get this straight…"** I breathe slowly, scrunching my eyebrows. **"…you're an ex-gang member. But your gang doesn't kill people. They just like to pick fights." ** My body shifts uncomfortably, sinking into the couch. He was a gang member. That's probably why he's good at combat.

Four nods quietly, holding an ice pack against his face. **"Until recently,"** he corrects glumly. His voice is still as raspy as when he was crippled on the floor. **"They used to help people. Now they've started gunning other gangs down to prove their 'courage'."**

"**Help people, huh?" **I repeat, raising my eyebrows in disbelief.

He shrugs.** "We were like robin hoods."**

"**And they wanted you to join them again…because…?"**

"**Because I have terrific aim with a gun," **he says flatly.

I roll my eyes.** "Yeah, and that's something to be proud about," **I mutter.

He shoots me a dirty look, snapping,** "I'm not proud. I denied them and they attacked me." **He clenches his fist around his cup, scowling bitterly at the wall. His hair is ruffled up and his jacket has a tear in the back, exposing some of his skin. How did he even manage to escape? From the way he described it, it sounds like there were a good four people on him.

"**You do realize if my dad finds out that I'm harboring **_**a gang member**_** in my house, he's going to arrest you, right?" **

He growls, suddenly glaring at me. **"Who says he's going to find out?"**

"**No one. It's just you're going to have to find another reason why you're in **_**my house**_** looking like **_**that**_**." **

He doesn't respond. He knows I'm right. His thumbs slide nervously up and down the sides of his empty glass.

Despite his bruises and cuts, his blue eyes pierce through the darkness and I have trouble looking at him for more than a few seconds. His face injuries almost reduce him to my level of ugliness. Almost.

Four is only sixteen years old, but with all his experience, he seems a lot older. I must seem like a child to him, with my small body. I'm glad he's not looking at me. It gives me more time to look at him. **"Do your parents know about any of this?"**

He shakes his head.

Frowning, I ask, **"Why didn't you just go back inside your house after they beat you up?"**

"**I couldn't go back there looking like this," **he says, pressing the ice pack against his cheek.** "My dad would kill me."**

I snort.** "I'm pretty sure any sane dad would want to help you." **

He shakes his head again, his breath shuddering.** "Then my dad is pretty insane."**

I don't know what he means by that, but I don't press him further. It's almost two-thirty in the morning, and I still have to finish the narrative draft.

"**I'll get you some blankets,"** I say, standing up awkwardly. Even if I try to be selfless like my mom, I could never mimic the tenderness in her voice.

Before I can take a step though, I feel a tug on the back of my shirt and I spin around, alarmed by his touch. He stares at his hand in equal disbelief, as if he didn't mean to. **"Sorry."**

"**Yeah…"** My eyes twitch, and I turn away so he doesn't see my cheeks turning hot. Why am I acting like this?

"**Tris?"** I shut my eyes. What now? **"I wanted to say…thanks," **he mumbles softly, making my head light and airy.

I quickly find the closet and pull out some sheets. When I return, Four is already asleep on the couch. His chest swells more evenly, and even though his eyes still move restlessly under his eyelids, the rest of his body eases into silence. He looks peaceful. Watching him gives me a warm feeling inside.

After sliding the blanket over him, I grab a pillow and sit on the floor.

I guess the narrative draft can wait until tomorrow.

* * *

When I wake up, he is still sleeping as peacefully as last night. My finger pokes his cheek. No movement.

"**Four?"** Nothing. **"Hey Four." **I poke his nose this time. We need to get going before my parents wake up. I cup my hands around my mouth. "**FOUR!" **I shout into his ear, shaking his shoulders. He doesn't respond, but there is a teeny smile trembling at the corner of his lips. I snort.

Pretending not to notice, I reach under the couch for the bottle of glue (don't ask). I waver the glue bottle over his nose, hoping he catches the scent of nail polish and wax. **"Maybe if I glue your clothing to your skin, you'll wake up,"** I whisper playfully. He doesn't move. Doesn't think I'll do it does he?

I watch his eyes as I press the tip of the bottle on his neck, leaving a line of white on his skin.

His eyes snap open. Immediately, His hand jumps out from under the blanket and rapidly seizes my wrist. **"You're a real pain in the ass, you know that, Stiff?" **he grins, prying the glue bottle out of my hand. Four's voice is warm and airy.

"**I might,"** I smile back. **"Come on, we need to go before my parents wake up."**

A cold, irritated voice behind me repeats,** "**_**Before my parents wake up**_**."**

I turn around.

Crap.

* * *

"**Beatrice Prior, you are going to tell us why there was a boy sleeping over this instant," **my mother snaps in a tone so quiet and menacing, my hairs are standing up. My father stands beside her in his police outfit, staring curiously at Four while Caleb sits distantly on the stairs.

I shift nervously and quickly peer outside the window where Four is. On the other side of the glass, he watches me just as closely, unable to hear what's going on.

I wrack my brain, blurting,** "He got mugged while he was getting some mail. He was so confused, he went to the first house he saw." **My parents look at each other in disbelief, shifting their eyes back and forth suspiciously between me and Four. **"Oh come on,"** I groan. **"Look at his face. You can't possibly suggest he did that to himself."**

"**Do not talk to your mother like that," **my dad says quietly, frowning. **"You should've woken us up."**

"**It was late. You needed rest."**

My mother purses her lips. She knows I'm lying about that, but that doesn't mean letting Four in wasn't an act of selflessness. She turns away from me to open the door. **"Four,"** she calls gently. **"Can we talk to you?"**

He shuffles in, wearing an empty expression. My mother smiles,** "Who are your parents?" **

He doesn't answer immediately, and I get the feeling he's lying when he says,** "Lisa and Adam Smith." **My parents seem convinced, however, and they nod.

"**Please tell your parents we'd like to meet them."**

Four twitches.** "Sorry, they're out of town right now."**

"**Oh, well, do you live nearby here?" **my mother insists. It's weird seeing him like this. He's wearing a face like he's being reprimanded by his own mother, and it makes him look a lot younger.

Four nods slowly.** "A few houses away from here." **

"**When your parents get back, please let them know that we'd like to chat sometime."**

"**Okay."**

"**You two better get to school now, though, so we won't keep you waiting," **my father says, wrapping his arm around my mother. I nod gratefully, realizing we have just been let off the hook by Four's impeccable skill at lying. I heave my backpack onto my shoulders and spin my heels towards the door. **"Oh and Tris?"**

"**Yeah?" **I say turning around.

"**You're grounded for a week."**

* * *

Four didn't come to school that day. He said it would be better if he skipped so no one saw his face. We parted in front of my house and this time, he waved me goodbye.

When I get to school, I notice there are posters all over the walls about an upcoming dance. Already? _Not like it concerns me,_ I think to myself. No one would want to go with me. Not with the stiff. I wonder if my dad struggles with bullying at his work. I doubt it though. I think adults like to talk behind people's back. Approaching people might be a teenager thing.

"**TRIS OH MY GOD TRIS,"** Christina screams from the other end of the hallway, rolling towards me like a boulder. I brace myself, but in vain. She hugs me full force and we both fall onto the ground. **"TRIS, TRIS OH MY GOD." **Her weight is crushing me. I groan at the people walking around us.

She grabs my face in her hand and squeals. I struggle to pry her off, shouting,** "JESUS WHAT?" **

"**WILL," **she whispers loudly into my ear.** "HE ASKED ME OUT TO THE DANCE."**

I look at her, confused, and she groans, rolling her eyes.** "Tris, be a girl for like a second. Isn't Will the most beautiful man you've ever seen?" **I think for a moment, but Four's face is the only that comes to mind.

"**Uh, yeah," **I lie.

She squeals again and I could've sworn I felt blood trickling down my ear. I see Al approaching us, wearing an amused grin. _**"Help me,"**_ I mouth over Christina's shoulder. He understands and nods, grabbing Christina by her waist and lifting her off of me. Even in Al's grasp, Christina squirms uncontrollably, giggling to no end.

Al carries her all the way to class and I walk beside him, awed by the fact that even he is struggling to control her. Christina may be bigger than me but she's a little over half the size of Al. The moment Will comes into view however, she freezes all of a sudden. Enough that Al thinks it's safe to put her down, which is saying _a lot_.

Will sees her and smiles, and she smiles back. Cute.

After Jeanine finishes roll call, Al approaches my desk. From a distance he looks like a bear almost, with his short brown hair and brown eyes. **"Tris,"** he says. **"Can I talk to you after class?"**

"**Yeah, sure. Why?"**

He shakes his head, suppressing a shy smile. **"You'll see." **Um. Okay?

When he returns to his desk, I watch Four's empty seat, imagining him there with his feet propped on the desk as he stares distantly out the window. I'm starting to forget why I felt mad at him before.

I work on the narrative draft until the period ends. Then I walk out the class, Al following closely behind me. **"So you wanted to talk?"**

He ruffles his hair nervously with one hand, while his other hand fiddles with something in his pocket. **"Uh yeah. I was just wondering…if…"**

I lean in close, forcing him to lean back. **"…if…?"**

"**If you have some time at lunch,"** he blubbers, his cheeks turning rosy.

I don't understand why he would be blushing, but I shrug, not really caring. **"Yeah. I do. Is there something you want to do?" **

"**Yeah, there's….there's…uh there's a book I wanted to show you in the library. It's really cool."**

I frown and nod. He gives me a nervous laugh and walks away. That was weird.

When lunch time begins, Al is already seated next to my usual spot. In his place, Christina and Will sit together on the opposite side of the table, a little bit too close for just "friends". Will has his arm wrapped around her and Christina fits the side of her head snugly into the curve of his shoulder. Oh yeah. Definitely "friends". They're giggling about something and I decide not to interrupt them. That seems like the wrong thing to do.

Al nudges me, saying, **"You ready to go?"**

I nod and we stand up together. The library is small, but it's everything that I could ever need. I don't read a lot. I wouldn't be surprised if Caleb was there though. He loves reading. And apparently Al does too.

Al leads me to an emptier corner of the library and looks around. We're alone, well hidden by stacks of books and shelves.

"**Uh, so Tris,"** he says shakily, fiddling with something in his pocket again. **"I wanted to know if…um...if…"**

"**If…?"** I repeat again. Why are we here alone?

His cheeks turn even rosier than before.** "If you'd want to—"**

"**STIFF,"** I hear someone holler. A stack of books tumble to the ground and from it, Peter emerges alongside Eric and Drew. Eric and Drew look slightly placid, but Peter is a completely different story. He looks angry. He looks vengeful. **"I noticed your boyfriend isn't here today,"** he sneers. Honestly, doesn't he have anything better to do than antagonize me?

"**I don't have a boyfriend**," I respond flatly, folding my arms. **"What do you want now, Peter?" **If he's looking for a fight, I think I'm more than ready to have one. I look at Al. He wears an expression of fear, concern, confusion…and _hurt_.

"**You're a little bitch that needs to be taught a lesson,"** he growls.

I snort. **"Last I checked, I'm pretty sure Four sat your ass down the other day, not the other way around."**

As expected, he lunges at me, but I duck quickly under his arm and kick him from behind. He crashes into stack of books. A crowd of people circle around us, murmuring.

Peter scrambles to get up again, glaring at me. **"Not scared you don't have your boyfriend to protect you?"** he taunts.

I frown, watching him carefully. **"I don't know what you're talking about."**

Peter's knuckles make rapid contact with my jaw, forcing me to stumble backward into a shelf. Immediately, he snatches a fistful of my hair and yanks it upward. A searing pain tingles through my scalp, and I struggle to land a punch on him but to no avail. He grins and violently strikes my face again, smashing my head against the books. Warm liquid drips from my nose.

"**What? Feeling stiff?"** Peter gibes, staring threateningly into my eyes. He jerks my head up again and slaps me hard, the sting burning like acid. Out of ideas, I send my foot into his groin. He flinches and releases my hair, roaring almost, **"You little bitch," **before throwing another punch at me.

I shut my eyes, waiting for the impact, but it doesn't come. When my eyes open, I see Al with his hand closed tightly around Peter's wrist, his face red with anger. **"Don't touch her,"** Al grunts, towering over him. Peter tries to tear his hand free but finds that it's no use. Instead, he tries to punch Al with his other hand. Al catches his fist just as easily and twists it, making Peter cry out with pain.

"**Let…go…"** Peter's voice is strained. Al doesn't respond. Al stares at him, suddenly unable to control himself until finally, a horrific snapping sound breaks the tension and Peter screams. I gape with wide eyes. Al just broke his wrist. Alarmed, Al frees Peter from his grasp and backs away, allowing Peter to crumble and clutch his wrist. An thick silence suddenly overcomes the room, the only noise really being Peter's whimpering.

"**Al…"** I say slowly. He shakes his head at me with scared eyes, shifting his gaze between his hands and Peter, who's writhing with pain. Then he turns around and runs, splitting the crowd in half. I follow behind him.

"**Al, it's okay!" **

"**No,"** he says shakily. **"I couldn't control myself and I broke his wrist. How is that okay?" **

"**I know you didn't mean to."**

He stops in his tracks and turns to glare at me, yelling,** "But that's not enough is it?!" **He breathes heavily, his fists tightly clenched. Slowly, he sits on the ground and puts his face in his hands.** "I never wanted to hurt him, but he was hurting you and I just…lost myself." **His eyes meet mine for a second before hiding away behind his fingers. I sit down next to him, unsure of what to say. What would my mother do? I don't know.

"**I'm sorry,"** he whispers quietly, reaching into his pocket. **"The reason…I asked you to come to the library was because of these."** He holds two tickets in front of me. Two dance tickets. I stare at them with wide eyes.

"**You're…you're asking **_**me**_**? To go with you?" **I ask incredulously. He nods.

My head feels airy with confusion and I have no other instinct other than to nod my head too. **"Yes," **I say.

He smiles weakly. **"Thanks, Tris."** Then, he scoots towards me, wrapping his arms around my back and giving me a soft hug.

I hug him back, absolutely bewildered.

* * *

**Sorry if my writing seems weird for this one! ;_; I just came back from a really wild party and I don't remember stuff and I can't think and urgh**

**Hope you enjoyed R&R! I love it when you guys give me ideas for what should happen next ;u;**


	5. Chapter 5

**OH MY GOD I am so sorry about the wait for this chapter omfg**

**You guys don't have any idea how many times I started this chapter over like I literally deleted the whole thing and started from scratch because I kept running into writer's block half way through every single time ;_; I hope you enjoy hopefully even now i'm just argh about it/passesout**

* * *

"**Aren't you coming to school?"** I ask Caleb.

"**I'll catch up with you,"** he says, searching clumsily for something in his backpack. **"Just go ahead without me."**

I shrug and join Four who is waiting on the doorstep.** "Okay." **Secretly, I am hoping this becomes routine.

Four heals at an insurmountable speed. Luckily, he doesn't notice me gawking at his face as we walk to school the next morning. His skin looks almost brand new, and in areas where there was a deep cut or a scrape, he patched with small band-aids. His step is crisp as he walks. Surprisingly, his eyes no longer wear the iciness from when we first met. I want to say that's good. That's what I wanted, to see him like that around me. I can almost feel the warmth pulsating through the space between us.

We don't say anything for a while, and I think he is listening to the quietness of our feet as much as I am. At one point though, he brings up Jeanine, asking how I think of her. I tell him.

"**So you think Jeanine is control-lusty," **Four says, tilting his head.

I nod. **"Definitely."**

"**It makes sense, with what you said about the factions." **

From there, we discuss the system Jeanine created until suddenly, a twig snaps loudly, but ominously behind us. I spin around, finding Caleb only a couple feet away behind a bush.

I jump. **"What the—"**

"**What are you doing?"** Four asks, frowning loudly.

Caleb creeps out from concealment with a guilty look on his face**. "I was just curious about you two hanging out again."**

Of course he was. Caleb's always curious. **"Well go ahead and observe,"** I say. **"Just don't be creepy about it."**

Caleb narrows his eyes at me. The sidewalk isn't big enough for three, and Four ends up walking along the curb. Well that's Caleb. Ruining the moment. As always.

"**Are you really a sophomore?" **he asks Four, eyeing him suspiciously. **"You look a lot older."**

"**I might be," **Four answers simply. We walk in silence after that.

When we reach school, we are thirty minutes early. Four stalks off to do something else, leaving me alone with Caleb.

"**Tris,"** he scolds quietly. **"I don't think you should hang around that guy."**

"**What? Why?"** I ask, suddenly feeling irritable.

"**He just seems…dangerous. The way he came over that night…you don't believe he got mugged when he was getting the mail, do you?"**

"**Yeah, I do," **I lie.

He sighs, tugging at the collar of his shirt. **"Just be careful, okay?"**

"**I will." **My hand waves dismissively. Whatever. He doesn't have control over me.

* * *

Once I sit down, I prepare the draft in front of me. I finally managed to finish it. My eyes catch another figure walking through the door. Jeanine still reserves the usual irritated expression for him, but at least he wasn't late to class this time. Four settles down without looking at me.

There is movement near my desk.** "Hi Tris,"** Al says. **"How are you?"**

"**Good,"** I answer absently, still staring at Four. I almost forgot about being asked to the dance yesterday. Maybe it just hasn't registered. I don't think it was something anyone expecting.

Al tries to follow my gaze. **"Aren't they cute?"**

Huh? I turn to blink at him. Then I realize he's talking about Christina and Will who are laughing together behind Four. **"Oh, uh yeah. They are."**

"**I just wanted you to know…that I think you're cute too." **Now _that_ grabs my attention. Is he flirting with me? When he asked me to go to the dance with him, I thought he meant as friends. Now I stare at him, but before I can say anything, the bell rings and Jeanine waves her ruler frantically in the air, signaling everyone to be quiet.

"**Class!"** she beams. **"Someone very important has come to talk to you today."**

At that moment, a man steps through the door. It is our principal and my neighbor, Marcus Eaton. He wears the same tender smile and gray collared shirt.

"**Good morning, class," **his voice projects**.**

"**Good morning, Mr. Eaton,"** the students respond tiredly.

Mr. Eaton begins pacing back and forth at the front of the room.** "As you may know, there have been increasing accounts of gang violence in our area lately. It is my duty to ensure that students understand that these crimes shall not be tolerated on our campus. It is absolutely beyond selfish to force your fellow classmates to endure such activity and violators shall be expelled immediately. Is this clear?"**

The students nod, murmuring quietly amongst each other. I watch Four's reaction. His black shirt tightens around his back as he folds his arms, his eyes staring coldly at the man. At least Four isn't gang member anymore.

"**This is a very serious issue. Should you be discovered withholding information about gangs on our campus, or participating in this warfare…"** Mr. Eaton breathes, straightening his tie. **"You will be sent to be interrogated by police."**

After several moments of silence,he nods and begins leaving the room.

"**Everyone say thank you to Mr. Eaton,"** says Jeanine.

The students chant together, **"Thank you," **watching the door close behind him.

Jeanine replaces him at the front of the room.** "Today, we will be finishing up the narratives with our partners. I want the final draft on Monday morning, typed and printed." **

This time, I walk to Four's desk and sit casually on its surface. He gazes up at me, his eyes sliding sluggishly over my face. **"Did you do something different with your hair?"**

Wait what? No stiff comments? No "don't ask" comments? I stare at him confused. **"Yeah, I put it in a bun."**

"**Well…"** he murmurs, suddenly leaning in. **"You look good." **I cringe. His breath smells like smoke, which leads me to assume whatever he's saying right now is the result of cigarettes. Not to mention that's two compliments in one day—two too many for my brain to handle. He doesn't notice. His voice is more lethargic than usual. **"We should meet this weekend."**

Uh.** "Sure, if you want. At your house or mine?" **I want to pinch my nose. The scent of smoke is strong.

"**Yours." **He says it like his house isn't even an option. With past events, I'm curious to see what his home life is like, but I know I can't press him. At the same time though, there is something different about him today. The way he talks seems more familiar and the way he looks at me, well…maybe he's melting a little. That might be the cigarette talking, but I'll pretend it's really him.

All of a sudden, his palms hit the desk and he leans in even closer, murmuring in a low voice, **"Unless your parents have a problem with that."**

That is definitely the cigarette's effect. I'm about to say they would just so he'd suggest his house, but I decide against it. Instead, I lean forward too, feeling like the distance between us should be shorter. We are only five or six inches away now.

"**No," **I answer, returning his gaze. **"They would welcome you."**

We lock stares for a few moments, longer than I have ever stared at him before. He examines my face thoroughly for who knows what reason, leaving me to do the same. His eyebrows are a tiny bit thick and his eyes are a shade of navy blue that makes me sleepy, blending with the blackness of his shirt. His skin looks smooth except for where there are scabs. I search for traces of bruises, but they are scarce or hidden under bandages.

I can't stare at him anymore.** "Hey, do me a favor and stay away from smoking,"** I say quietly, pulling away.

He laughs, then coughs into his sleeve. **"Right, right."**

* * *

"**Oh my God, so Al asked you to the dance?"**

"**Just as friends,"** I remind her.

Christina shakes her head. **"I'm pretty sure he likes you."**

"**Why would he?"** I snort.

"**Because Tris," **she says, playing with my hair. **"You're a beautiful person."** I cringe again. That's _three_ compliments in one day. I must be dreaming. She puts her hands on her hips. **"Have I ever lied to you?"**

"…**No,"** I sigh. My voice becomes strained. **"Let's get some dresses, I guess."**

Christina quite literally got Al to throw me into her car after school. While she told Al that we were going bowling, she actually wanted me to help her pick out a dress. Little did she know, I needed to pick one out too.

I try on a short blue dress. Christina gives me a look of disgust. A purple one? Nope. Okay…A brown one? Christina gags. An orange one? She scowls.

"**You suck at this, Tris." **

I shrug my shoulders, about to tell her my history of burning Barbie dolls until she muffles my face a black dress. It is long enough to go down to my knees, and it is strapless. A layer of black lace overlaps the entire dress, finishing with a silky black ribbon to wrap around my waist. When I put it on, she gasps.

"**It is perfect,"** she utters, impressed.

I frown. **"It's itchy." **

She immediately brings her finger to my lips.** "Hush, you look gorgeous. Men will be on their knees when they see you." **

After Christina picks out a black and white dress, we walk over to the counter.** "Is this all for today?" **That cashier says. The cashier looks to be my age. I stare at her, trying to figure out why she looks so familiar. Eventually we lock gazes, long enough that she seems to recognize me first.

"**You're the flat-chested stiff, aren't you?" **Now I remember. Molly.

"**Yup,"** I say monotonously.

"**The cups on this dress are probably too big for you,"** she smirks, stuffing my dress in a bag.

Christina growls, **"Listen, dollfa—"** She stops when she feels my fist twist into her arm.

I step in front of Christina and give Molly two twenty dollar bills. She gives me ten dollars instead of twelve for the change but I don't care. I drag Christina and the bags with me out the store. Somehow, even if my blood boils at Molly, I don't think picking a fight with her just for saying something stupid is exactly the reason why I want to be braver.

* * *

Sunday night.

"**Beatrice…"** my mother breathes staring out the window as Four approaches our house. **"Why is Four coming over?"**

"**We're doing a project together,"** I reply, avoiding her gaze. **"It's not for fun, I assure you."**

"**Remember, you're grounded."** She sighs and fluffs her apron, then disappears into her bedroom. Maybe she feels uncomfortable, but I have to do this so there's not really any choice.

I open the door before he can knock. **"Hey."**

"**Hey,"** Four says, taking off his black sweater. Underneath it reveals to be yet another tight black shirt to blend in with his incredibly dark jeans and black converse. He's a very no-nonsense, black clothing kind of guy, I guess. **"Let's get started, yeah?"**

I lead him into my room and he sits on my bed while I get the laptop started. After that, I close the door so we're absolutely alone. **"Does the principal know about the whole gang thing you had?"**

He purses his lips, then shakes his head. **"Fortunately, no."**

I sigh in relief, a little too loudly than I would have liked. He grins, but I pretend not to notice. Just a couple days ago he seemed so icy, but now his presence makes me feel like I'm burning in a fire.

We are silent for a moment, until he stands up and sits down on the floor next to me. He doesn't say anything, but I can feel his eyes on my face. **"Don't be worried for me," **he says quietly.

"**I know, I know,"** I gasp. **"Just…gangs."**

"**Not all gangs are incredibly empty headed. Mine used to be for the greater good," **he sighs.** "They're all just cowards now."**

"**Yeah, like me," **I laugh a little. And I believe every word of that. If I was brave I could stand up for myself. I could throw myself in dangerous situations for other people, just like Four does. But I don't.

"**No." **He shakes his head.** "You know, there's something about you and I can't put my finger on it**. **I didn't notice it until the night you took me in, but there is something about you that's…different." **_Don't look at him. Don't look at him._ He keeps inching closer and closer, so close I can feel the warmth radiating between us.

"**Don't know what that could be,"** I frown, tapping my fingers on the keyboard. Different. That word taste sour at first, but ends with a sweet flavor. I try to change the subject.** "I've been wondering. Why do people call you Four?"**

"**It's a secret,"** he says simply. He pauses for a moment. **"Maybe another time."**

Maybe another time. Not never. Not "It's none of your business". Just another time. Why does this make me so happy? I don't know how to respond, so I don't.

He continues anyways.** "By the way, I'm sorry about Friday. I'm shouldn't allow people to see me like that."**

I furrow my eyebrow, remembering the scent of musty smoke. **"What? High?"**

"**Yeah…well no."** He shifts his gaze somewhere else. **"Real."**

I look at him and we meet eyes for a second before I turn quickly away.

There has to be a reason why my chest feels so heavy when I'm around him—why I get so flustered just talking to him.

I am falling fast, and I can only come to a terrible, irreversible conclusion:

I think…I like him.

There. I said it, but I won't say it again.

* * *

"**Tris?"** Someone's shaking my shoulders. **"Tris!"** Four says louder. My eyes flutter open groggily, but it doesn't help. My room is almost completely dark, except for the ray of moonlight shining through my window. I must've fell asleep while Four was working. His face is inches from mine and I would be incredibly embarrassed if not for the utter panic in his eyes. His hair is messy, like he's been ruffling his hand through it one too many times.

I stare at him sluggishly. **"What's goi—"**

"**Tris, I'm so sorry,"** he stutters. He stands up and paces back and forth exasperatedly. **"That gang I told you about? They just took your brother."**

That doesn't register at all.

He wipes his hands over his face, clearly frustrated. **"They kidnapped your brother! I didn't think they had it in them, but I know where to find them."**

"**No…" **I shake my head, saying louder,** "Where are my parents?!" **The anxiety is starting to kick in. What are they going to do with Caleb? My hands tremble and I try to clench the fear away, but I can't. My brother is in the clutches of a gang.

He sighs.** "They…I don't know. They left somewhere while you were sleeping." **

Then I need to call them right? But what if I do? Then they'll never let me see Four again. But for my brother's sake…

I'm truly selfish.

"**Let's get him back,"** I breathe shakily, standing up. Four looks like he's about to protest, but thinks against it. Good.

When I walk out of my room, I gape at the mess that is the front room. Shattered glass litters the floor and there are about three bullet holes in the front door**. "Why didn't you stop them?"** I whisper.

"**I fell asleep too,"** he answers regretfully. **"I woke up when I heard gun shots but it was already too late." H**ow did I sleep through it?

I find a brick on the staircase with a note taped to it. I read it aloud**. "If you want the kid back, come to the usual spot with a gun."**

A gun?** "My dad has a gun." **I lift one of the wooden boards on the stairs and reach under it, wrapping my hand around one of the weapons. It's a small hand gun, but it should work. Four stares at me as he takes it from my hand, but whatever he's asking in his head, he doesn't ask aloud.

"**Grab one too."** I do as he says and we head out the door. There is small drops of blood trailing down the driveway that thins out into nothing by the time I reach the sidewalk. I shiver. What did they do to Caleb? Anger slowly consumes my fear.

Well whatever they did, I'm going to make them pay the full price.

* * *

**If you have any constructive criticism at all, please review! ;u; or suggestions for the plot heehee**


	6. Chapter 6

We walk in silence under the night sky. I don't know where he is leading us but worried thoughts of Caleb swirl through my head, and I am tense next to Four. Once this is all over, if Caleb and I are still alive, he will tell me that he told me so**—**that Four is dangerous to be around. And to be frank, he might be.

Why did they have to kidnap Caleb? Why not me? They are depending on Four to be heroic, so why black mail him with someone he hardly knows?

Four seems to notice my stress and puts a heavy hand on my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks. **"Your brother, he'll be okay," **he says in a low voice.

**"How do you know?"** What if it's not okay? Suddenly the weight of the gun in my pocket feels like a brick. I will have to kill someone tonight if things don't go as planned. What would my parents think? I shudder the thought away, and he just squeezes my shoulder tighter. **"The gang is only ruthless to other gangs—not to innocent bystanders."**

I don't respond. I can never be too certain.

**"You know, you didn't have to come with me," **he says quietly.

**"Yes I did."**

**"Why? Aren't you scared? It's gang activity, after all."**

**"It's my _brother_."**

He laughs and continues to walk.** "That's very...brave of you."**

We have traveled about a mile when he points at it. It's a small wooden bridge that connects the sidewalk to a grassy area on the other side. Far under it lies a small canyon of thick stocks permeated by a layer of water. As we cross the bridge, he stops me in the middle of it and points down at the stocks.

**"We have to jump."**

**"Okay."**

He smiles again, looking at me strangely. **"No questions. You'll do it?"**

**"Yeah. Why?"**

He shakes his head and climbs onto the wodden railing, then reaches towards me. I take his hand, feeling his fingers tighten around my wrist. He keeps his eyes on me as I climb onto the railing beside him. It's a lot higher off the ground than I imagined. Wind whips at my face. I look down. It looks like it could be at the stocks could be at least twenty feet below us. When I look at Four he tightens his lips and closes his eyes, a slight tremor in his hand. He still hasn't let go of mine. Together we bend our knees and jump.

We are falling fast. The air is howling as the stocks surge toward me, my heart throbbing as the wind pounds against my body. I can't breathe, I can't see anything. The next thing I know, the stocks crunch under our bodies as we tumble swiftly into a thick hidden net right above the water. A sharp rock jabs though the net and into my side, and I sit up. I don't remember when I stopped holding Four's hand, but I can still feel the ghost of his fingers wrapped around my wrist. Four landed about a yard away and he is already up on his feet. He reaches his hand towards me again, and I take it, picking myself up.

We hop a couple rocks until we see land. We walk a short distance before I see it. Behind a thin wall of leaves hides an entrance to a tunnel. It is guarded by a single person with a small gun in her hands. She watches us carefully as we approach, and steps to the side to let us through. I can especially feel her eyes on me, the way a wolf would eye a rabbit.

The echos of our foot steps bounce off the walls, and I keep my eyes on Four's back as he leads me. There is a small fire at the end of the tunnel, probably where the gang is. I can hear Four's breathing becoming quicker the closer we are to the end of the tunnel. When we reach the end, I see a a familiar face next to the fire**—**Eric. Then Lauren and several other strangers. There is at least fifteen people in this room.

I knew Eric was bad, but really? And Lauren too?

As we step in, they surround us, blocking any route of escape. My eyes search around for Caleb, but he doesn't seem to be anywhere. That's until I look up. My mouth drops as sheer anxiety swallows me whole. Caleb sits above the fire, unconscious in a chair that swings loosely under the grip of a single rope. Blood trails down the side of his face. The ropes that tie him to the chair are loose and insecure. My stomach twists in knots. Four seems indifferent, staring directly at Eric.

**"You brought Stiff along,"** Eric says, folding his arms.

Four sounds bored. **"What do you want?"** He tosses the gun between his hands. **  
**

**"You already know that."** Eric steps out from the circle and positions himself in a way that he's leaning really close in towards Four's face. **"Once a Dauntless, always a Dauntless."** A series of shouts and acknowledgments spring out from the rest of the gang as they pump they're fists in the air. Dauntless? Like Dauntless in class?

**"I told you already, I don't belong here anymore."**

**"What happened to you, Four? You used to be chill." **Eric smirks, stepping back.** "Then you got all soft when your mom died."**

Four tackles Eric with a fist targeted at his nose, but Lauren and another person snatch Four by either arm before he can inflict damage. **"Don't talk about my mom,"** Four growls, struggling wildly against his restrainers. **"I swear I'll kill you."**

**"Well are you coming back to Dauntless or not?" **Eric says.

**"Like hell I will. Not with a bunch of pride-sick cowards."**

Eric is indifferent to the insult. In fact he smiles, as if that's how he likes to be described. **"Then why don't you sit and watch this kid suffer,"** says Eric, pulling a knife out. Suddenly, Caleb is lowered closer and closer towards the fire until the flames are licking the bottom of his shoes. Eric brings the knife to the rope and slits one hair. Slowly, but steadily, the rope begins to unravel. Once the rope is broken, Caleb will surely die.

**"STOP,"** I scream, lunging at Eric. **"THAT'S MY BROTHER."** I manage to land a punch on his jaw before I feel myself thrown back against Four. He rubs his chin resentfully, stomping towards me. His hand seizes one of my wrists and he yanks me to my feet. Then he spins me to the side so we're both facing Four. _  
_

**"Is this girl special to you?"** Four doesn't respond, and in that moment, it is hard to tell which of them hold more hatred in their eyes.

**"Grab her."** Eric shoves me away from him, and two more people seize me by the arms. It's not until after they grab me that I remember there is a gun in my pocket. While they bind me in more ropes, Four keeps his eyes on me with an abrasive expression. They stand me next to Caleb so I can feel the heat just as well as he can. I growl through gritted teeth, trying to ignore the flames. The rope is about a quarter thinner than it was originally. If I struggle anymore, I will be wasting time.

Suddenly, Four's face weakens, silent and conflicted, until finally he stops struggling. **"Fine,"** he says shortly, jerking himself free. **"I'll come back. Why do I need a gun?"**

**"Well you left," **says Lauren slowly, cautiously, eyeing Caleb.** "So now you need to be reinitiated."**

**"You have to shoot apples off their heads," **Eric grins.

Four groans. **"Really? Are you serious? I already said I would join your fucki-" **

**"It's the Stiffs,"** Eric interjects icily. **"Why do you care?"**

Four doesn't respond. And suddenly I feel very hopeful. _Why do you care?_ I ask him silently.

He glares at Eric, and waits for the person to place an apple on Caleb's head and mine. Is he seriously going to do it? If he's really as good as he says he is...well let's hope he is. He muscles are tense as he steadies the gun in his hand. Even so, he is not afraid, so neither should I. He waits a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose before returning to his position. His finger squeezes the trigger.

A loud bang echoes through the tunnel. The apple on Caleb's head splatters against the wall behind him, and a faint round of murmurs fills the room. I breathe a sigh of relief. Caleb is still alive.

My face will be like that apple if he misses. My heart is pounding faster and faster as he points the gun just above my head. **"Listen Tris. Don't move an inch, a centimeter, at all. Understand?"** Four orders, lowering his eyes to mine.

I gulp.** "Yeah." **

He licks his lips, then purses them. Beads of sweat slide down the side of my head. I could die right now. In front of all these strangers. My life could end right here, and I could fall dead to the ground and everything would be over. He stares carefully at me, then freezes. My heart stops when he presses the trigger.

Another bang echoes through the room_. _I feel the apple's weight lift off my head and hear a smacking sound behind me.

I gasp for air. I am alive. I am alive.

Cheers fill the room, and Four drops his gun, letting it clatter to the ground. All this time, I thought he was calm, but now that I look at him again, I see that his chest is swelling heavily and he looks like he is gasping for air. Someone pats him on the shoulder, and he bats the hand away, clearly angry. He doesn't want to be back here.

Everyone seems to have forgotten I even exist as they crowd Four. All except Lauren. She comes up from behind me with a knife and cuts the ropes while two people lower Caleb down onto the floor. **"No hard feelings, right?"** She says quietly in my ear. If she were any louder, I probably would have punched her hard in the nose. They were going to kill Caleb and me. I can be angry, can't I?

That's right. I can. I push her away and snatch the gun from my back pocket. Then I fire once at the wall behind the crowd. Two girls scream, and everyone is silent, staring at me. All except Eric, who whips out a gun at me too. **"What are you doing, you little bit-"**

**"Tell me how to get out of the canyon,"** I say through gritted teeth.

**"Are you forgetting I could ki-"**

I fire again at the wall, closer to his head. I am not scared. I am not scared. Everyone backs away, except Eric. He doesn't even flinch.

I am fiercer this time. **"I said, how do I get out of here?"**

Lauren speaks up. **"There's a ladder outside."**

**"And if you call the police on us,"** Eric adds coldly. **"We'll make you regret it."**

**"You should've thought about that before you shot down my house, you assholes."** I say bitterly, shifting my eyes across all the faces. **"My dad is a police officer."**

**"Well, he's not going to find us unless you tell him,"** he smirks. He's right. This place is so well hidden, I'm questioning how they even found it in the first place.

Four steps away from the crowd, reaching towards Caleb. **"I'll help you."**

**"No, you won't."** Eric says. **"You're staying here."**

Eric is the authority in this group, and even Four hesitates at his order.

**"It's okay,"** I say. **"I've got it."** I heave Caleb over my shoulder, trying to make it look as easy as possible. But in fact, it is already making my knees wobble. I am small. Caleb is small too, but he's bigger than me. I drag him around the fire, and everyone parts to either side to let me through. Four's gaze is the only one that is soft.

Once we're out of everyone's sight though, I feel Caleb's weight lighten.

**"Beatrice,"** he whispers, shaking. A tingling sense of relief buzzes through my body.

**"How long have you been awake?"** I whisper back.

**"A while."**

I don't know where to start.** "I'm sor-"**

**"Beatrice I told you he was a dangerous person."** His voice is angry.** "You almost got us killed."**

**"But I didn't."**

**"You're not hanging around that guy anymore."**

**"But-"**

**"Beatrice."** he says firmly.

I think better than to argue with him. He can say what he wants. As sorry as I am, I'm not listening to him. It seems crazy, that I would still want to continue a relationship with Four._ I_ think it's crazy. But I don't care.

Caleb gets off my back once we exit the tunnel. The same guard eyes me again. Then I realize who she is. It's a student from my English class too, who picked Erudite. Her name...her name is...Tori.

* * *

When Caleb and I approach the house, I am hoping that it's in better shape than how it first appeared. I am wrong. Caleb's blood is still on the driveway and shattered glass is everywhere. The debris within the house is even visible from the outside. Slowly, we enter the house and I hear weeping coming from the kitchen. I follow it, finding my mom sitting at the table with two hands clasped together in front of her. She's praying.

**"Mom?"**

Her head jerks upward and her tear-blurred eyes skirt over us before she stands up and rushes to embrace us. **"Oh God,"** she cries, digging her face in my hair. **"Oh my God, your father went looking for you half an hour ago."** Her arms squeeze us one more time before she pulls away. **"What happened?"**

**"I found Caleb in the park. Caleb says it was a group of robbers and they thought he was dead so they left him behind a bush,"** I say quickly, before Caleb says anything. He stares at me.

**"Caleb is that true?"** my mother gasps, holding his face in her hands. Her thumb rubs over his head wound and he flinches, nodding slowly, clearly uncomfortable with lying. He heard Eric though. If we tell the police, Eric will probably get his gang to kill us somehow.

** "Let me call your father,"** my mother says quickly, grabbing the phone. When she turns around, I look at Caleb and he looks at me.

How long can we keep this lie up?

* * *

**Sorry if my writing seems weird again! x_x I am trying to type more freely, more carelessly and I have a feeling that I left a lot of plot holes and things**

**please constructively criticize ;u; 3**


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